


Faithless in This Broken Place, How Dare You Come and Speak of Grace

by arthureameslove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fallen Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthureameslove/pseuds/arthureameslove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't care about the blood escaping his body. It's a manifestation, something material and unimportant. Distracting, yes, but in 2.67 minutes he will have lost feeling of his vessel, so he figures he might as well ignore it. </p><p>There were worse things than death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithless in This Broken Place, How Dare You Come and Speak of Grace

_Fire_. Endless burning coursing through every fiber. Falling. He was hurtled across the sky-- across dimensions-- screaming soundlessly in agony.

 _Collision_. The endless journey of those few soundless seconds and the painful reality of the cold hard earth.

 _A face. A man. Green eyes. Freckles._ His memory made the pain almost bearable. But what was his name? The familiarity of his features was almost mocking in its persistence. He spared a scoff as to the fact that he was thinking of such unimportant things, but instead it became a dry, broken sob.

His senses soon returned to him, brutally pulling him from his blissful, half-conscious state and cruel recognition immediately set in. The overpowering smell of singed feathers. The white hot stabs of his ribs puncturing his lungs as they expanded. The taste of coppery blood in his mouth, and the thick, wetness of it slowly growing in a puddle around him. The texture of the rough field grass beneath him, his surroundings devoid of any other foliage giving him a view of the stars through his blurring vision. The falling stars. No. Not stars. His brothers. His sisters. His fault.

His breath came in quick, wheezing gasps. Which one, he wondered, would be his last? He sobbed quietly, his gaze glued to the streaks of fire and ash littering the sky. He wondered if anyone else would cry for him. With a sinking heart he realized that no, no one would cry. No one cared. It would not be poetic, or beautiful, it would be unseen. Meaningless. The death of a sinner who turned from grace of his own free will.

Free will. The words nagged at his mind, distracting him from his own blood draining away. Those words meant something. They brought to mind someone he cared about. The man. The Righteous Man. He remembered. He remembered the closeness, his soul, the brightness of it making it impossible for him to turn away.

He remembered the words that had silently torn him apart.  
_Nobody cares that you're broken, Cas._

He remembered the words that put him back together.  
_...Cas. I need you. ...We're family._

 _A face. A man. Green eyes. Freckles._ The man he saved but could not save. The man who taught him that unrequited love is more excrutiating than any mortal wound. He did not want to die knowing he had failed him. That he had failed _Dean. Again._

 _Collision._ He thought of Balthazar and Samandriel. _You did more than rebel. You tore up their whole script and burnt the pages for all of us_. He would laugh if it were physically possible. He broke heaven. He broke himself. _I am your new God_. And where was God? The higher power, the absent father. _Perfect... Like a marble statue. Cold... no choice... only obedience._ He feels nothing but pain. He sees nothing but pain here. _What is so worth saving?_

 _Fire._ He thinks of the color green. He thinks of leather and old salvage yards. He thinks of brothers and love and faith in something far from divine. He thinks of a family he once knew, and another he found, broken and cracked at the edges but still something pure and _good._ He thinks not of fire and brimstone, but of green eyes and freckles as he welcomes the darkness.


End file.
